


Lullabies

by PhoenixPhoether



Series: Impressions [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fatherhood, M/M, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixPhoether/pseuds/PhoenixPhoether
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a father is a lot more than Harry bargained for. It's putting a strain on him and on his marriage to Draco. When everything reaches a breaking point, what will it take for them to survive? A story of overcoming pain with love and hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's Father's Day in the US. So this is a story that's a little about being a father, but mostly about being human.
> 
> The story is a sequel to Daydreams, Gifts, and Clouds. I suggest you read those first. It's in the style of Impressionism, meaning that it's meant to leave the reader with a particular mood or feeling. I chose a different emotion for each story in the series (and kudos if you can figure them all out!). Your Impressionist song for this is Debussy's "Jimbo's Lullaby."
> 
> Just so you know, I don't do male pregnancy. So you can imagine they have their baby through either adoption or surrogacy.
> 
> Warnings: This is not a happy story. It has a happy (more or less) ending, and no one dies. But it may trigger some people. Advance notice for themes and mentions of suicidal ideation, self-harm, and depression. There's also a fair amount of swearing and some smut.

**I**

On an ordinary Saturday afternoon in January, with nothing better to do at the moment, Harry wandered around the house, making sure all was ready. It seemed that they had accomplished everything they could, though he hadn't been able to stop himself from double checking their work every day from the moment they'd finished baby-proofing. His nervous energy made Draco rather cross, but he couldn't help it. The waiting was agony, worsening as their child's due date drew near.

Several friends had kindly loaned them various items they would need over the next year, and Molly had been unable to resist sending them a very tiny Weasley jumper—pale peach—and a hand-knitted layette. She spent several weeks teaching them a good number of her favorite useful spells, and even Draco had grudgingly admitted he was grateful for her enthusiasm. Narcissa had been as bad as Molly; she planned a huge affair for after the baby arrived home. Everyone knew it was just an excuse to begin lavishing gifts on her grandchild, so no one minded much. In fact, she had firecalled Molly for help with the party, which had unsettled both Harry and Draco but didn't seem to trouble either of the older women in the least. They were like giggly schoolgirls again.

At that point, it was only a matter of waiting. They had agreed that Harry could have the first six months' leave, and Draco would take the second. That left them an entire year to build a healthy bond and find a long-term carer before both of them returned to work. Several friends had already been through the same process—Ron and Hermione twice over—and their advice had seemed sound.

Draco was on the couch, reading. Just as Harry was about to ask if he wanted tea, the fireplace flared and an unfamiliar head appeared.

"Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy?" the young woman asked.

Both men crouched down to see her. Draco replied, "Yes. May I ask what this is about?"

"I was told to inform you that Althea March is in labour, and the baby should be born any minute now."

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco. His heart was suddenly in his throat and a flock of birds seemed to have taken up residence in his stomach. "Oh," he whispered.

"All right to come through?" Draco clearly had the more level head at the moment.

"Certainly," the mediwitch replied. "When you arrive, you'll find yourselves in the waiting area on the fifth floor. Whoever is at the desk will give you instructions." The mediwitch pulled her head out of the fireplace and the green flames died.

Draco stood up and pulled Harry to his feet. He grabbed the Floo powder without complaint, and Harry understood he was just as excited. "Let's go, then. We can firecall the others from St. Mungo's."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Harry asked.

"What? Oh, damn. The bags. I'll get them." He rushed up the stairs, and Harry bit back a snort. Apparently he'd overestimated how level-headed Draco actually was.

Fifteen minutes later, they were tossing in Floo powder and shouting, "St. Mungo's, fifth floor!" They arrived in time to be intercepted on their way to the desk by the young mediwitch and a healer. "You have excellent timing," the healer said. "Follow me."

They hurried behind the healer to the end of the corridor, stopping outside the last door. The healer knocked once and opened the door when a voice called out, "Come in." She motioned for Harry and Draco to enter as well.

The pale woman in the bed looked up and smiled when they entered. "Hello," she said. "Would you like to meet your new daughter?"

For a moment, Harry's breath caught. They had a daughter? Obviously, it could have gone either way, and he wasn't disappointed—merely surprised. Something in him twisted, though, wondering if Draco would be all right. He'd always assumed Draco wanted a son, though they'd never really talked about it.

Seeing that Harry was momentarily speechless, Draco nudged him before answering, "Of course we would."

Althea crooked her finger, beckoning them closer. She held out the bundle in her arms, and Draco accepted it. His eyes shone. "She's amazing," he whispered.

Harry hung back slightly until Draco turned towards him and gave him a puzzled look. He shook himself and stepped over to the bed. He peered around Draco's arm at the tiny, pink infant and sucked in his breath. Draco was right; she was amazing. He grinned up at his husband and extended his arms. Smiling, Draco handed over the baby.

Her voice laced with exhaustion, Althea asked, "Will you tell me what she's called?"

Harry and Draco exchanged a look. "Maia Aster Black," Draco replied smoothly. That was the feminine name they had chosen; the surname was the result of a long debate on whose she would have. They didn't hyphenate their names, and they didn't think it sounded right for their child, either. As they both shared Black heritage, it seemed the most logical choice. Surprisingly, even Draco's parents had agreed—though Harry thought Narcissa had probably spent some time persuading her husband, and he honestly didn't want to know how she accomplished that.

Althea smiled. "It's a lovely name."

"Do you want to hold her again?" Harry asked.

She shook her head. "She's yours now."

The healer spoke up. "The baby needs to stay for a bit to make sure she's healthy. You're more than welcome to spend the night with her, however. We'll give you a room."

Harry laid his hand on Draco's arm. "Do you want me to stay by myself? That way, at least one of us has another night's sleep before we take her home."

"Of course not. I want to stay too," Draco assured him. "I only have to go to work on Monday long enough to tell them I'll be out for the week. I can deal with a bit of sleep loss until then."

"Are you sure?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't bother asking me that again. You know what my answer will be."

"Okay. I'll need a few minutes to send an owl about starting my leave." Harry handed the baby to Draco.

"I'll see you in our room?"

"Ten minutes," Harry said, leaning up to give Draco a light, chaste peck on the cheek.

On his way out, Harry reflected that as much help as their friends had been, and as pleased as he was to finally hold Maia in his arms, he still felt utterly unprepared for fatherhood. He wished, neither for the first nor the last time, that he still had his own father. Somehow, a portrait miles away in a castle gallery wasn't quite the same thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

Harry held back a groan of exhaustion as he slid back into bed. Maia was asleep—finally—and he wanted to do the same. He'd hoped she would be staying down longer by then, but he had obviously underestimated the time it took for a newborn develop that skill. Three months in and she still didn't go more than four hours at a time. At least he didn't need to be alert for work.

He couldn't quite get comfortable, but he didn't want to move around too much and risk disturbing Draco. He shifted for a bit before finally finding a position that felt all right. A hand slid across Harry's hip, and he felt Draco shift closer. The warmth was nice, but Harry was afraid his restlessness would keep Draco awake, too, so he pushed gently at the arm now encircling him and tried to escape. It was no use.

"Can't sleep?" Draco murmured.

"It's okay. I just need a few minutes. Sorry I woke you."

"I could help you settle down." Draco's mouth was pressed just under Harry's ear. He nipped at the spot a little, and Harry squirmed. Draco took that as an invitation to kiss his way down Harry's neck to his shoulder.

There was a time, before Maia, that Harry wouldn't have hesitated. He could feel Draco's body responding to his, taking note of the erection pressing against his back. Draco moved his hips a little. Harry wanted to appreciate it, but he couldn't. He hadn't even been able to touch himself in ages, even though that was one thing that hadn't changed in their years together. Through the haze of weariness, he hadn't much cared.

Before Harry could say anything, Draco's hand slipped further down, cupping him. The hand stilled for a moment, and Harry knew Draco was surprised to find him entirely unaroused. His face grew warm.

Draco didn't seem to mind. He began to tease and rub, clearly hoping for some kind of reaction. He hummed when he finally elicited a response, but Harry simply batted his hand away. He wasn't interested in where this was going; he just wanted rest.

"Stop."

Huffing, Draco, rolled onto his back. "It's been weeks, Harry." He turned his head to the side. "I just want to feel close to you."

"I'm not in the mood."

"I could feel you getting hard." Draco clearly wasn't giving up so easily.

"We'll wake the baby," Harry tried.

"You've just got her to sleep. We have time." Draco's voice was dry; he sounded upset.

"Fine. D'you want me to—"

"No!" Draco hissed. "I want to make love, not have you suck me off and go back to sleep like last time." He rubbed at his face. "Look, I'm just going to take care of this myself." He rolled onto his back.

Harry stayed curled on his side, his back to Draco. He felt Draco wriggle a little. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the slight rhythmic motions beside him. Once, what seemed like an eternity ago, he would have been eagerly interrupting so he could participate. He vaguely knew that was what Draco was hoping for, but he simply couldn't do it. Instead, he lay still, listening until he heard Draco's soft grunt of release and the muttered spell to whisk away his mess.

The bed jostled again as Draco turned over to face away from Harry. After a few moments, Harry felt Draco shaking slightly and glanced over his shoulder. He was surprised to hear Draco sniffle. His husband never cried—at least, not in front of anyone, including Harry. An ache welled up in his chest, and tears prickled in his own eyes. He wanted to reach over and offer comfort, but as the source of Draco's distress, he thought that might be unwise. Instead, he left him alone and tried to go back to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, Harry slipped out of bed to go make breakfast. Draco was awake, but he only huffed and turned his back to Harry. The tension between them clearly hadn't abated. That was nothing new, really. They'd been snappish with each other for some time. It wasn't just the sex, though Harry knew that was a big part of it. They'd always been physical with each other, whether that had taken the form of dueling or lovemaking. A memory came unbidden of a time a little less than two years before. He'd surprised Draco by baking fairy cakes for his birthday. They'd both wound up covered in icing, licking it off each other and following it with a round of hot-but-awkward kitchen sex.

Harry remembered other times, too—groping each other frantically under the stars on a camping trip; Draco taking him up against the wall in the entryway on his return from a three-day Auror training session; randy and giggling, fingering each other after Ron and Hermione's wedding, too drunk for anything else. An even older memory surfaced of the two of them, sprawled together on the couch just after their first Christmas, reading. Draco had slipped his hand down Harry's trousers, fondling him whilst pretending to concentrate on his book.

Slamming his palm against the counter, Harry tried to block out the intrusive thoughts. He wondered if all they'd ever had between them was sex. Did they have anything else in common, other than their former rivalry? He wasn't sure, and it didn't help that he felt foggy from being up with Maia in the middle of the night. Forcing back the tears that threatened, he shoved down his insecurities and continued stirring the eggs. When he was through, he put food on their plates and charmed Maia's formula milk to the right temperature.

He was just in time. Draco came down the stairs, Maia in his arms. "Ah," he said. "I see you've remembered we're to go see my parents today and had breakfast ready."

Harry froze. He'd actually forgotten, and he wasn't sure he wanted to go. He swallowed that thought, but he couldn't help being slightly rude. "You might have gotten up to help, if you were so concerned."

Draco scowled at him. "No need to be nasty about it. I was just glad to see you made some effort for once."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Harry plunked a cup of tea down harder than strictly necessary, slopping a little over the edge.

Huffing in irritation, Draco wiped up the spill. "Nothing, other than that you've been avoiding company lately. All I meant was that it's good you're wanting to go out."

Harry sighed and rubbed his face, letting his anger subside. It was true that he hadn't made visiting with friends or family a priority, but that was only due to exhaustion from caring for Maia. He decided it wasn't worth having a row. "You're right. Let's eat so we can be there all the sooner."

It took another hour before they were finally ready to leave. They Apparated, as Draco still refused to enter his parents' home with soot in his hair. Harry supposed it was just as well, with the baby and all. The elder Malfoys' house-elf greeted them and led them to the sitting-room.

As much as Harry hated to admit it, the quiet company of Draco's parents was a welcome change. He loved his surrogate family very much, but these days, with so many grandchildren, the Burrow was a constant stream of people and activity. In sharp contrast, Malfoy Manor was almost silent.

Harry sat quietly with Narcissa, sipping tea whilst Draco rocked Maia and conversed with his father. Vaguely, he heard Narcissa say something and turned towards her.

"Sorry?"

Narcissa offered a small smile. "I asked how you were feeling. You look a little pale."

"Oh, I'm all right, thank you." He tried to return her smile, but it felt stiff and forced.

She noticed. "Is Maia still not sleeping through?"

He shook his head. "No. Not yet."

Narcissa laid her cool fingers on his forearm. "She will." She slid her hand to squeeze Harry's. She wasn't overtly demonstrative, the way Molly was, but Harry understood the meaning in her gesture. "If you need anything, you may ask, of course."

Harry nodded. "Thanks." He succeeded in giving her a genuine smile this time. "I will," he said, even though he knew he wouldn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

They were fighting again. Harry didn't even recall exactly what started it this time, only that it had escalated quickly. The pair of them were used to occasional heated arguments; with their history, they weren't likely to live in a fairy tale where they always got on perfectly. Still, they'd learned to disagree, even forcefully, without insulting each other or resorting to the bad habits of their younger years. These days, however, seemed like one nasty row after another.

Harry thought this one might have been about Draco's extended hours working on a project. It might also have been about the sharp decline of Harry's housekeeping skills. More than likely, it wasn't really about anything at all and those things were peripheral. In any case, they were shouting at each other in the drawing room. Draco had shut the doors to muffle the sounds so they wouldn't wake Maia in a rare fit of actually napping.

"It wouldn't be so bad if you were ever around to help out," Harry was arguing.

"You know I would be if I could. I'm trying to finish this set of trials so it's done before I take my leave. And anyway, how hard can it be to keep house? It's just you and one baby. She doesn't even move yet." Draco crossed his arms.

Harry's temper flared. "You would know how hard it is if you were ever home!"

"I _am_ home! I'm here _right now_. And I don't see you taking advantage of that fact! Maybe you want to go take care of some of the mess." Draco waved his hand as though dismissing a servant.

"Right. Because I'm just lazy, am I? Wouldn't occur to you that I might like some time with you or that I could use a rest or at least some fucking _help_. I don't just sit around on my arse all day, you know!" A wall sconce behind Harry's head exploded, and something sailed through the air to smash next to the doors.

"Charming. I suppose you count throwing things at me as 'spending time together'. Shall we start hexing each other next?"

"Fuck you," Harry spat.

"I wish!" Draco roared back. "That would be better than having to do it myself all the time!"

For whatever reason—exhaustion or anger, Harry wasn't sure which—that remark sent him over the edge. His reflexes were still good, and in a flash he had his wand out, holding it to Draco's neck. Draco's eyes widened in shock, and he backed up to the wall.

"Harry…" he whispered. "Please…"

A wailing cry came from upstairs. Harry's hand shook, and he lowered it, tossing his wand aside. He turned towards the door.

"No," Draco said. "I'll get her." He brushed past Harry and yanked open the drawing room doors, disappearing around the corner.

Harry waited a breath and then picked up his wand. He needed to get away. He dashed out of the drawing room and down to the front hallway, snatching his cloak off a hook on his way. In a flash, he was out the door, slamming it behind him.

He wasn't sure where to go once he was out. For a few minutes, he just walked, gaining enough distance for the house to disappear between numbers eleven and thirteen. He looked back at the place where he knew it stood and contemplated simply going back in. Deciding against it, he hurried to a place where there was enough privacy to Apparate safely. With a _crack!_ he disappeared, reappearing in a deserted alley. He walked the short distance to the Leaky Cauldron.

Outside the building, he hesitated. There would be a crowd, and he was still well enough known that people might care to stop him for a chat. He debated whether he could cope with it just then. Ignoring any misgivings, he stepped inside. Sure enough, on his way through, several people grabbed at him, asking how he was doing and how the baby was doing. A few even asked after Draco. Harry politely answered them that everyone was fine, thank you.

Just before he reached the exit, he heard his name. He turned around to see Hannah waving at him. "Harry!" she called again.

"Hello, Hannah."

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Just running some errands," he replied. He took a tiny step closer to the door.

"Can I get you something?"

"No, thanks. I really need to take care of some things. You know, so I can get back home." He swallowed and fought a wave of sadness.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Of course. You need to be home for that sweet baby of yours. Maybe next time, then." Her face fell a little and she sighed. "It must be wonderful, being a dad."

"Er. Mostly, yeah, I suppose." He couldn't very well explain to Hannah what was going on; she and Neville had tried unsuccessfully for ages to have a baby. It would only hurt her feelings if he were honest.

She peered at him. "Are you—are you all right?"

"Sure. I mean, of course I am." He took her hand and kissed her cheek. "Give Neville our love?"

"I will." She squeezed his hand before she stepped away, back towards the bar.

She turned around and waved, and Harry returned it. Eventually, he worked his way through to escape into Diagon Alley. The weather was cool but not cold, overcast but not yet raining. Harry tried to look purposeful as he walked up the street, nodding to people occasionally as they waved. He found himself outside George's shop and wondered if he should go in. Chances were good he would see at least one Weasley, most likely Ron. George was busy taking care of the Hogsmeade shop. For whatever reason, Harry would rather have seen George. He decided it didn't matter much and pushed open the door.

He was surprised that it was Ginny working instead of one of the others. She looked up from the register and smiled, waving him over. She stepped out from behind the counter and reached to embrace him. It was difficult, given that she was eight months pregnant; being so petite, she couldn't quite get her arms around both her belly and Harry. She giggled and settled for a side-hug instead.

"Haven't seen you in ages," she said. "I'm not too busy at the mo'. If you wait here, I'll find Verity to cover for me and we can have lunch."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

Once Ginny was free, they walked arm-in-arm around the corner to a small cafe. They settled in at the back where they could have some privacy.

"I'm absolutely starving," Ginny said. She made a delighted sound as she took a bite of food. For the first time in who knew how long, Harry chuckled. Ginny swallowed and grinned back at him before saying, "So, what brings you here? And where's the baby?"

"Why does everyone always want to know about Maia?" Harry complained. "Can't I have a day out without her?"

"Well, of course you can." Ginny sounded surprised. "You just usually don't."

"She's home with Draco, obviously." He poked miserably at his lunch, suddenly not feeling hungry.

"Is everything okay?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I just needed some time to myself." He willed himself not to cry; he wasn't even sure why he was so upset all the sudden.

"You two have another row?" Ginny asked quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah. I have no clue what made us think this was a good idea."

"What wasn't a good idea? The pair of you being together or having a baby?"

"Both," Harry whispered. Before he could stop it, a tear slid down his cheek. His lip trembled as he hastily brushed it away.

Ginny reached out for his hand. She didn't say anything soothing, nor did she chastise him. It was one of the things he liked best about her—that she wasn't in the business of dismissing or advising him. As much as he loved Ron and Hermione, they could both be difficult that way. He was glad to be sitting across from Ginny instead.

When he'd sufficiently recovered, he decided to change the subject. He cleared his throat and said, "Not too long for you, I suppose."

"About another month." She smiled wistfully. "I miss being on a broom, but I can't fly like this." She waved her hand at her stomach.

"Will you go back after the baby?" Harry was interested in her answer. Angelina hadn't; she'd gone to work with George in the shop.

"I think so. Lee's work is flexible, and he's set up to broadcast from home. I won't start training again until after the World Cup, though. That will give us time to adjust."

"It's not as easy as it looks," Harry muttered.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I never said it was." She narrowed her eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Just that having a kid isn't exactly what I expected. Keeps me busier than I'd thought."

She furrowed her brow, but she didn't comment. Instead, she said, "Well, I suppose I'm about to find out for myself."

They finished lunch, straying away from baby-related conversation to other things. Ginny gave no indication that she'd noticed Harry barely ate; she wouldn't mother-hen him even if she had. After a while, she straightened up and stretched a little.

"I should get back to work," she said.

Harry stood up and offered Ginny a hand. He helped her to her feet, and together they made their way back to the shop. He placed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"Just for—I don't know. Lunch. Talking about something other than bottles and nappies."

She giggled. "I'll have to deal with that soon enough myself, I suppose. Promise me that when this one arrives," she touched her belly, "you'll take _me_ out to lunch to talk about something other than bottles and nappies."

"I promise."

She gave his hand a quick squeeze and ducked back into the shop. With a sigh, he Apparated back home to deal with the fallout from his row with Draco.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

Harry arrived at Ron and Hermione's house mid-morning. She had a few spare hours, so he'd brought Maia for a visit. When he stepped through the Floo, he was surprised to find their home in an atypical state of disarray. Usually, it looked like no-one lived there.

"Sorry for the mess," Hermione called from the kitchen. "It's Calista's day off, and the children spent the last hour bickering over a toy. Just push a few things aside."

Shoving a couple of toys off a well-cushioned chair, Harry sat down with Maia in his arms. When Hermione entered the room, she swept over to him and scooped the baby up. She rocked Maia and cooed, and it made Harry smile a little. She'd turned out to be surprisingly maternal. Harry supposed he'd always imagined Hermione would be one of those mums with a baby on her hip, trying to talk into the fireplace on a business call whilst furiously writing a new proposal about something-or-other rights with her free hand. Instead, she was a thoroughly balanced person who knew her limitations and took things as they came. He wondered when that had happened.

In fact, both of his best friends had taken readily to parenting. Ron was an excellent father, the sort who kept multiple photos of his children spelled to the walls around his desk, adding a new one what seemed like at least once a week. He'd transitioned smoothly to family life, but he'd increasingly found that working as an Auror wasn't compatible with his parenting style. He'd finally made the decision that he needed less taxing employment and was in process of taking over for George full-time at the Diagon Alley shop. It had been a long time in coming, and Harry was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Unfortunately, he had missed Ron's send-off at the Ministry, being home with Maia at the time.

"Look at how big she is now. She's just gorgeous, Harry." Hermione smiled over the top of Maia's head.

"Thanks. We think so, too," he replied automatically. Hermione gave him a funny look, but she didn't say anything.

Two-year-old Hugo wandered into the room and climbed up on Harry's lap. He resisted the urge to cringe. Hugo was at an age Harry found challenging—he wasn't really old enough to be interesting, but he wasn't tiny enough to simply be carried about. Even four-year-old Rose hadn't quite reached an age at which Harry thought children became enjoyable again. He much preferred ten-year-old Teddy to the younger ones.

Hugo babbled away, strings of unintelligible phrases occasionally punctuated with a word Harry understood. He tried to listen patiently. Fortunately, he was spared by Maia spitting up down Hermione's front. Quickly he deposited Hugo on the floor and reached into the bag he'd brought to retrieve a cloth. He took Maia from Hermione's arms and gently wiped her up while Hermione spelled herself clean.

"Goodness, I don't miss those days," she remarked. "Though it does get interesting when they sick up in bed at half two."

"Erm, I'm sure it does." Harry wasn't particularly looking forward to that stage, and it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have just then.

He heard thumping on the stairs, and a moment later, Rose appeared in the doorway. She grinned when she saw Harry and nearly launched herself at him. Hermione whisked Maia out of the way just in time. After a thorough hug for her godfather, Rose padded over to Hermione to see the baby. She was utterly fascinated by Maia, not having much recollection of her younger brother at that age. Hermione gently set Maia on the floor, where Rose knelt down and began to make faces at her. Maia giggled and waved her tiny hands. Encouraged, Rose fetched a blanket and proceeded to have a few rousing rounds of peek-a-boo with her.

Harry and Hermione talked for a bit about inconsequential things while the little ones played. There was a time when he thought they might have discussed work or ministry politics or Hermione's latest cause. Now, Harry just felt too weary to think about much other than how long it might be until he could return home with Maia. It hurt that his relationship with her had been reduced to that.

"You're quiet," Hermione remarked. "Are you—" She paused. "Is everything all right?"

"Sure." Harry tried to smile at her; he wasn't sure if he quite made it.

She picked up Hugo, who looked like he might be falling asleep amongst his toys. "Are you certain? Ginny mentioned that you and Draco—"

Harry huffed. Ginny hadn't had any business saying anything. He wondered why she had, as it wasn't like her to gossip like that. "We had a row, yeah. It's been resolved."

"Harry, if he's hurting you in any way, you need to tell us."

"What? No! It's not like that." He hated that they still jumped immediately to that conclusion, and he didn't want to add, _I'm worried it might be the other way around, and I'm afraid I'm going to hurt him or the baby._ Those weren't the sorts of things he wanted to confess. "Anyway, that was ages ago."

"Fine. I just care about you, that's all." She hoisted Hugo higher on her shoulder. "Let me go put him in his cot and I'll be right back."

She disappeared up the stairs and returned less than five minutes later. When she was settled back on the couch, Harry asked, "Do you ever wish your parents were nearby?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But we had a Muggle telephone installed, and we can easily take a portkey if we want to. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that…I dunno. I'm not sure I know what I'm doing." He didn't want to say that he still wished he had someone to reassure him he'd been the same way as a baby or that he would manage just fine through the toddler years. The only people who remembered him at Hugo's or Rose's ages weren't people he wanted to talk to.

"You know you can always go see Arthur."

"I know." Arthur Weasley was as close to a father as Harry had ever had, but it still wasn't the same. He wished he could explain it better to Hermione. Instead, he said, "I suppose there are a lot of people I can ask for advice, really."

They cringed simultaneously, and Harry knew they were both thinking the same thing: his father-in-law. Lucius Malfoy was the last person Harry would ever willingly speak to about parenting, outside of the aforementioned relations he no longer associated with.

There was an awkward silence before Harry said, "I should go. Maia needs a nap too."

"All right. Don't be a stranger, Harry. You can firecall me any time."

Harry packed everything back into his bag and prepared to Floo home with the baby. Hermione kissed him good-bye, and he caught the faint shadow on her face as she bid him farewell just before he stepped into the green flames.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions of suicidal thoughts which might be triggering for some people.
> 
> As an aside, yes, he should've gotten help before it got to this point. But in the middle of things, it can be hard to figure out that help is needed.

**V**

The weeks winding down to Harry's return to work were miserable. Maia had a cold, which meant she was fussy and not sleeping well; therefore, Harry was fussy and not sleeping well. On top of everything else, the thought of going back to work made him feel slightly sick.

He couldn't fathom working when he could barely stay awake long enough to take care of things around the house. Not only that, he no longer had Ron to fall back on. Somewhere in the recesses of his sleep-deprived mind, he knew what was really holding him back from enthusiasm about his job was that he missed working with his best mate. It was unfair of him to begrudge Ron the desire to have a less dangerous occupation or to deny George the success that necessitated taking on someone else to help run the shops. Still, it made him feel lonelier than ever having to face a new partner when he returned.

At present, Harry was on his bed, hoping to close his eyes for a few minutes. Maia was down for a nap, finally on the mend. Unfortunately, no matter how much he longed for sleep, it just wouldn't come. He lay there for a few desperate minutes, feeling ill and dizzy with exhaustion. He slammed his hand onto the bed, and he sat up, drawing his knees to his chest. Unshed tears stung his eyes. He just wanted everything to go the hell away; he needed it all to stop. Frustrated, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the ache and the weariness. He rose and went upstairs to the third floor, hoping to find something useful.

Draco kept a small potions lab there for testing things he brought from work as well as some samples for comparison to new ones he was evaluating for safety. In addition, he was responsible for brewing the occasional common household potions. The room had been a sound investment, given being married to someone working in a hazardous profession. It saved on trips to St. Mungo's for Harry's routine on-the-job injuries. Now that they had Maia, it also meant Draco could bring work home instead of staying to finish. Harry was certain there was something in the lab that would help him.

He tried the door, but it was locked. That wasn't surprising. Before Maia was born, they had taken every safety precaution they could, despite the fact that she wouldn't be able to get into mischief for quite a long time. Draco had insisted that they should be in the habit long before it became a problem. He set the lock so it would only open for the two of them. Quickly, Harry pulled out his wand and unlocked the door.

Inside, there were rows and rows of phials. He scrubbed his face tiredly and set to work looking through them. At the moment, he needed to take care of his need for rest so he could formulate a better plan to end his misery. Yet even in his own head he refused to call that what it was.

Most of the household potions were already bottled in carefully measured doses and labelled with their contents. Harry bypassed all the ones for injuries and illness, but he didn't see any calming draught or other potions for sleep. He pulled phials off the shelves, searching. In the process, he pinched several he thought might come in handy when he could think more clearly. At last he found something labelled 'sleep' and carried it out of the room and down the stairs with the others.

Back in the bedroom, he set the array of poisons on the night-stand. He uncorked the sleep potion and tipped the contents into his mouth, swallowing it all in one go. Within seconds he felt an odd tingling racing down his limbs. He dropped the phial as he lost control of his hand. Stumbling backwards, he crashed onto the bed, breathing hard. His vision swam and his chest constricted painfully. Dimly, he was aware that Maia had woken up and begun to whimper. He tried to stand up and go to her, but he couldn't make his body move.

"Fuck," he managed to gasp out. He needed help, someone to take care of Maia. Remembering that Hermione worked from home several days a week, he fumbled for his wand and did the only sensible thing he could think of. Before losing consciousness, he just barely managed to send his patronus to her, begging her to come.

* * *

When Harry started to come around, he was vaguely aware of the Floo opening and Hermione calling to him, but he couldn't make any sound to answer her. In the background, he could hear that Maia's whimpers had turned to outright crying. He heard footsteps on the stairs and Hermione continuing to shout for him. He tried again to respond, but he felt as though he were being held under water. Eventually, he knew she was in the room because her voice was quite close.

"Oh, god. Harry? Damn it, what happened?" In a moment, Hermione's hand was on his neck, feeling for a pulse. "Shit, don't do this." There was a pause. "Thank Merlin. Harry, if you can hear me, I'm going to send for Draco. Stay with me, please. _Expecto patronum_." She rubbed his arm. "I'm going to go get the baby and something to help you. I promise I'll be back." She let go of him, and her footsteps retreated from the room.

Harry wanted to answer her, to call out to her, but his mouth wasn't working. He couldn't move at all, and the world was going black again. He didn't fight it when he slipped back into oblivion.

* * *

The next time he started to wake, he could hear more than one voice.

"…found him like this," Hermione was saying. She sounded like she'd been crying. She must have been holding Maia; there was a faint whimper. "Shhh," Hermione cooed.

"Do you know what he took?" That would be Draco.

"This, I think. At least, it's what was on the floor. The other ones on the night-stand still have their seals."

"Oh, gods. The whole thing?" Draco sounded like he was panicking.

"I expect so. I don't know. Was it full? And what is it?"

"It's a new variant on sleeping draught. I don't think it was full, but he's taken at least four times what he should have, and it's potent as it is. Bezoar?"

"Yes. Thank Merlin the door to your lab was unlocked. I gave it to him, but it didn't revive him."

"Fucking hell. Must've been too long. Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Damn it." Draco was gasping for breath. "Shit. Come on, Harry." There was a pause, then, "We need to get him to the hospital _now_. I don't have any antidotes on hand."

The last thing Harry remembered after that was being caught up in someone's—probably Draco's—arms and Apparated away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains overt mentions of suicidal thoughts and feelings.
> 
> I'm not trying to capture everyone's experience with depression perfectly. Each person sees and feels things their own way. It's not a commentary on mental health but a snapshot of one story.

**VI**

Harry had no idea how much time had passed since the last time he'd been more or less awake. He realised at once that he wasn't in his own bed, but he still couldn't quite move yet. Everything felt numb. His mind was more alert, however, and he could clearly hear people talking in the room.

"Got here as soon as I could." That was Ron's voice. "Where're the kids?"

"Still with their carer," Hermione replied.

"What the fuck happened?" Ron sounded angry.

"He took something out of my lab." Draco's voice was tired. The bed moved as he sat down. When he touched Harry's arms, his hands were soft and warm.

"He's been off for a while," Hermione said. "Didn't you notice it was this bad?"

"What are you saying?" Draco's voice was low and threatening.

"Surely you didn't miss that he's too thin, and he looks awful. When was the last time he ate or slept properly? I don't see how you could've failed to pick up on it, unless it didn't matter to you."

"Why'd you leave him access to your supplies, anyway?" Ron demanded.

"I don't—" Draco's hands, which had been rubbing Harry's shoulders, stilled. Harry could feel him trembling. "Wait a moment. You think I drove him to do this, don't you? The pair of you are still so quick to blame me."

Realising what they were implying, Harry struggled to come fully back to himself and move. He pushed through the fog, finally drawing a deep breath and arching his back. He felt Draco shift.

"Harry? Please, love. Wake up."

Harry opened his eyes. "St-stop arguing," he muttered.

Clearly relieved, Hermione laughed weakly. "I'm sorry. You scared us."

"'M sorry," he murmured. He swallowed a few times, trying to clear the stickiness from his mouth. "Don't blame Draco. Not his fault."

"Give us a minute?" Draco asked.

Harry registered Hermione's blurry form pulling Ron towards the door. "All right. Let's give them some privacy." Ron shrugged and followed her out, scowling over his shoulder one last time before pulling the door shut.

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Where are we?"

"St. Mungo's. You nearly died, you idiot. That potion was one of my test vials." Draco's voice broke on the last word but he quickly composed himself. "I have to ask," he said. "Were you trying to—"

Harry wriggled, trying to sit up. "I wasn't trying top myself, I swear it." _This time._

Draco glared at him. "Well, then what the hell were you trying to do? You know better than to take something out of my lab."

"I just wanted to sleep," Harry admitted. "I'm so tired." He blinked as fear gripped him. "Wait…where's Maia?" He shoved at Draco and tried to get up.

"Stop." Draco pushed on his chest a little. "She's fine. Hermione took her to the Burrow and left her with Molly."

Harry flopped back against the pillows. "Shit. I'm sorry."

"What did you mean when you said you wanted to sleep?" Draco eyed him curiously.

"I've not been sleeping much lately." Harry sighed.

"What?" Draco frowned. "Why didn't you let me know? I thought you said Maia was sleeping better."

"She was, but then she had that damn cold, and she's still too small for pepper-up. She's better, but I'm still not sleeping well. I didn't want to worry you because you need to work. It's my job to take care of everything so you won't be too knackered." He looked away, twisting the blanket in his fingers.

Draco rounded on him. "There's something you're not telling me. I saw the other phials on the night-stand—those weren't for sleeping. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Harry acknowledged. He stared down at his hands then looked back up at Draco. "One minute I'm fine, and the next all I want to do is curl up and sleep forever. At least twice a week I blow something up, and it's not always accidental. I'm so tired I can barely move, and I want to cry all the fucking time. And I don't even know why." He drew up his knees and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, god. I just wanted it to stop. I need it to stop."

Warm arms slid around him. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling that way?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he let himself go, sobbing. He pressed against Draco, who held him close and whispered, "Shhh" over and over.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry drew in a shaky breath and wiped his face. He pulled away to look at Draco. "I have to say it before I bury it and then explode the room," he said.

"All right." Draco dropped his arms so he could take one of Harry's hands and kept his eyes fixed on him.

"I told you the truth, but only part of it. I didn't intend to die this time." He drew in a deep breath. "But I wanted to. I want to," he corrected. He leaned in and dropped his head on Draco's shoulder, relieved to finally say it. "I wanted to clear my head so I could figure out how to make everything go the fuck away." He gasped as a fresh wave of grief washed over him. "Oh, god. I want to die." He shuddered violently before relaxing back into Draco's arms.

Draco sucked in his breath. "No," he murmured. Harry felt him trembling, and he could hear him trying to control his emotions without success. He shifted and took Harry's face in his hands. His eyes were brimming. "Can you tell me why?"

"It's all just too damn much lately. I've been trying to do everything because I'm the one home with the baby, and it's my responsibility so that you don't make a mistake at work when you're tired. I'm terrified that we're both going to die and leave Maia an orphan because we work in hazardous professions and because both of us still have people who would do anything to get at us. I'm worried that I'm not going to be a good parent because I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. I never had a dad myself, and I know I'm fucking it up at every turn. And I'm waiting for an angry disinheritance letter from your parents because we have a daughter and not a son." He was almost hyperventillating by the time he was through.

While he talked, Draco's eyes widened. "Can I answer all that?" he asked quietly. When Harry nodded, he continued. "This is not your responsibility, it's ours—we both chose to have a baby. You're right, our work isn't safe, and we still have to be careful, especially when we're not together. There are no guarantees. All we can do is protect ourselves the best we can, which we've so far been able to do quite well. You are a fine parent, and nobody knows what they're doing at first—you are not a fuck-up. What was the last one again?"

"Your father being angry that we have a daughter."

Draco snorted. "Haven't I already told you we don't live in the Dark Ages? Honestly, Potter. Where have you been when we're visiting my parents? Surely you've seen how my father dotes on her. I think we've finally found something he loves more than that damn car you bought him. My mother is thrilled to have a granddaughter. Absolutely no one minds that she's a girl."

"But what about that shite your mother said about producing an heir?"

It was obvious Draco was trying not to laugh. "Is that some weird Muggle thing, that only boys can be heirs?"

"Er, I guess?"

"Well, it's a load of old nonsense. I have no idea what put that idea into your head. Maia _is_ my heir. Yours too, for that matter. It doesn't make a bit of difference where she came from or that she's a girl. She's ours, and that's all anyone cares about."

Harry flopped weakly back onto the bed. "She's an exhausting heir, if nothing else."

Draco chuckled. "That she is." He leaned down and kissed Harry's cheek. "Don't ever do that to me again. I thought I'd lost you."

Harry reached up to brush at Draco's hair, which was falling into his eyes. "I wish I could make that promise to you." He sighed. "But right now, I can't."

Draco swallowed and nodded. "Is all this why you kept pushing me away? I thought—" He bit his lip. "I thought you didn't want me anymore. Maybe even that you didn't—"

"No!" Harry stopped him before he could complete that thought. "I do love you, and I do want you. I just can't…" Harry cleared his throat. "My body won't respond." His neck prickled, and he cleared his throat. "Erm. Or sometimes I just can't finish, and I've been too embarrassed to tell you. I stopped trying ages ago, even when I'm alone. I'm always just to knackered or too…" He trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, though he knew it was true: _Too depressed_.

By that point, Draco's eyes were red-rimmed again. "Don't shut me out. At least let me be close with you, even if you don't want to do anything else."

"Okay."

Sighing, Draco sat up straight again. "This is more than just being tired or stressed, though. It's not good that you're feeling low all the time or that you wish yourself dead. You've said this wasn't on purpose—or not entirely anyway—and I want to believe that you won't do it again. But you've admitted yourself that next time, it won't be an accident. Make an appointment with that healer you see, or I'll do it for you." Something in his tone made it clear it would be unwise to disagree.

"I will. I didn't think it was this bad. I'm sorry."

Draco laid his hand on Harry's cheek, and Harry leaned into the touch. "I know." He leaned down and kissed Harry softly. "You need sleep, and Molly can't keep the baby forever. Get some rest, and I'll be back in the morning."

"Yes, Mum."

Chuckling, Draco stood up. "Behave yourself," he warned, but he grinned. There was more relief than amusement behind it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More overt references to depression and suicide. Also, see the note at the end. I promise, things get better after this.

**VII**

After spending a few days at St. Mungo's, the healers released Harry with his physical health intact. He went to see Donita, his therapist, as soon as she had a spot available. He fought back his shame as he took a seat on the edge of the sofa in her office.

"It's been a while," she said, keeping her tone light. "Tell me how things have been going."

"Oh, just fine, thank you," he replied. She raised her eyebrows, but she said nothing. He tried to keep his voice bright as he said, "Erm, we have a baby now."

"So I'd heard. Why don't you tell me more about that."

"O-okay," he stammered. "Well, er, she's called Maia, and—oh, fuck this." He'd never been good at hiding anything from Donita anyway. He sighed. "Sorry. I'm not here to tell you about how wonderful it is being a father. It isn't going well at all, to be perfectly honest."

"I had a feeling. Go on." Her gaze never wavered as she waited for him to continue.

"It's just that…I dunno. I thought this was supposed to be a good thing, you know? I'm supposed to be _happy_ , for fuck's sake. Er, sorry again." He tugged on his hair.

"You don't have to filter for me. You were saying you think you should be happy?"

"Yeah. But I'm not. I'm—" He gripped his knees and drew in a long breath. Closing his eyes, he repeated what he'd said to Draco in the hospital. "I want everything to go away. I want—I want to die." He opened his eyes.

Donita nodded. "That isn't unusual, you know. Have you been around many new mothers?"

"Of course." The corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm an honorary member of a family with seven—shit, six—children, most with their own families."

"Right. Well, new mothers often experience the same things you are. Muggles call that 'post-partum depression'. Did you know new fathers can have it as well?"

"Er, no." He remembered that Angelina had been a bit down after Freddie was born, and Audrey had suffered terribly after she and Percy had their first. He hadn't even given birth—how could he be feeling the same things they had? "How is that possible?"

"With women, some of it is hormones, and some is the changes that come with new parenthood. It's the same for men, actually, though the balance is different." She paused. "For you, I also think this has triggered some of what we spoke about before when you came to see me. I'd like you to come back on a more regular basis so we can talk about that, if you're willing."

Harry cleared his throat. "I am."

Donita nodded. "I'd also like you to start taking a potion. I know we agreed before it wasn't necessary, but I think this time we ought to reconsider." She opened a book and flicked her wand at the quill on her desk. It began scrawling on a piece of parchment. "Will Draco brew this for you, or should I send you to an apothecary?" She picked up the parchment and extended it to him.

"He'll do it." Harry accepted the slip. "This is just temporary, right?"

She sighed. "Possibly. But you need to consider that it might be long-term. This isn't the first time you've come to me, and it won't be the last. For now, let's take things one step at a time."

Harry knew she was right. Though it had never been as bad as it was then, he'd always struggled on and off. The unfortunate side effect of his realisation was that it fueled his fears, and he wondered just how long Draco would be willing to put up with him. He kept that concern to himself, however, and left Donita's office armed with the brewing instructions for Draco.

* * *

Harry thought his worry might not be unfounded after a particularly difficult day. He'd returned to work, and as there wasn't much going on, he'd spent hours at his desk buried under a stack of parchments, trying to catch up on what he'd missed. Consequently, his back and neck ached, and his eyes burned. Meanwhile, Draco had spent his day coping with Maia's new-found mobility—she could now haul herself around the room like a caterpillar. It was exciting to see her grow, but it tried Draco's patience when she got into one mess after another. Both of them were tired and irritable, and they spent most of dinner snapping at one another.

Wearily, Harry ascended the stairs with Maia to give her a bath. He left Draco in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes. What felt like an eternity later, Maia was at last asleep in her cot. Harry was surprised Draco hadn't come upstairs yet. For whatever reason, it bothered him more than a little bit. He could feel a shadow sliding over him; it didn't take much to convince himself that they were once again nearing a breaking point.

Retreating to the bedroom, he hauled open the drawer in the night-stand. Underneath the typical things he kept in there, he had a hidden panel. He prised it open and slid his fingers inside until he touched the cool glass of a small phial. The first time Draco had brewed his anti-depressant, Harry had been in the lab with him. He'd managed to pinch one of the other potions whilst Draco had his back turned for a moment. He hadn't been going to drink it, not yet anyway, but he wanted the reassurance that it was there if he changed his mind. Every day, he removed it from its hiding place and examined it, reminding himself that he'd made it through another twenty-four hours without using it.

He closed his hand around the phial and drew it out. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he rolled the phial in his fingers and stared down at it. The fluid inside was a strange purplish color, like the lips of the freshly dead. It made Harry shudder to look at it; he wondered if it would taste awful and if its effects would be immediate or drawn-out and painful. He'd done his research, and he knew what it was supposed to do; he'd just never actually seen it happen.

A soft noise made him glance up, and he saw Draco standing in the doorway. He stepped inside and closed the door gently. Draco's gaze travelled from Harry's face down to his hands. His eyes widened slightly, and then his expression darkened.

"What is that?" He stepped closer. "Is that from my lab?" he demanded.

Harry's face flamed. "And what if it is?"

Anger flashed in Draco's eyes, and Harry shrank back. "Then it means you nicked it." He held out his hand. "Let me see it."

"No!" Harry was on his feet.

"Damn it to hell, Harry! You took something out of my lab. I've no idea how you even got it, since you can't get in there anymore. I need to know what it is, in case you decide to be an absolute arse and drink it." He was shaking, and Harry couldn't tell whether it was from rage or fear.

For several seconds, Harry stood there, staring at Draco. The initial hot emotions slid away, and he relaxed his posture slightly. "Do you really think I would?"

"I honestly don't know," Draco replied. He pursed his lips and shook his head. In a soft, small voice, he said, "That's not true. Yes, I think you would." He extended his hand once more. "Please give it to me," he begged.

"No."

The pleading expression on Draco's face gave way to an angry glare. "You need to hand me that phial _now_."

The crushing weight of his tightly coiled emotions was too much, and Harry lost it. "You want it? Go get it!" he yelled, flinging the phial towards the door.

Draco's reflexes were sharper than Harry had anticipated. In a flash, he summoned the phial before it could smash, and it slapped into his hand. He closed his eyes and slumped a little, relief passing over his face. He opened his eyes, gave Harry a hard look, and turned on his heel, exiting the bedroom and shutting the door on his way out.

When he had gone, everything Harry had pent up spilled over. He grabbed for something else to throw. The nearest object, a book he'd been reading and had left on the night-stand, sailed through the air and hit the wall with a resounding smack. Harry mentally congratulated himself for not breaking anything this time. The thought amused him despite his rage, and he chuckled a little before the rest of his emotions crashed upon him. He sank down to the floor with his back against the bed. He kicked his foot out savagely before drawing his knees up, burying his head in his hands, and sobbing.

He didn't realise Draco had returned to their room until he felt his arms slide around him. He curled into his husband's side, absorbing his warmth. For a long time, they sat like that, until Harry's tears subsided. He pulled away slightly. It was time to tell the truth.

"You were right," he said.

"About what?" Draco sounded wary.

"I would've used it." He swallowed. "The potion, I mean. That's what I meant to do, anyway."

"I know." Draco didn't let go, which Harry took as a good sign. After a brief silence, Draco asked, his voice quavering slightly, "Tonight?"

Harry drew in a long, shuddering breath. "I'm not certain," he replied. "I wanted to." Another wave of sorrow hit, though it was smaller and more manageable than the first. When he was able to speak again, he said, "This will never end, you know. It will always be there, somewhere underneath, even if I'm mostly okay one day."

"I know that, too."

"I didn't keep that potion just to use it. I kept it to remember, to assure myself that I can do this. That I made it through another day and didn't need it."

"That's…good, I suppose," Draco replied, but he stiffened a little.

"Wait." Harry sighed. "But deep down, I knew I wanted it just in case."

Draco didn't say anything. He tightened his hold and leaned down so his chin rested on Harry's head. Words were useless; Draco knew perfectly well that Harry didn't need a potion if he truly intended to take his own life. There was nothing else to do but hang on and hope, day after day, that what they were doing would be enough. Harry wisely kept himself tucked up against Draco until he heard the faint sniffling subside.

Eventually, Draco withdrew. He angled his body and took Harry's face in his hands, soft and warm as always. "I don't ever want to lose you," he said. He let his right hand fall away, leaving the other resting on Harry's cheek—his familiar gesture of love and comfort.

Harry closed his eyes. "I don't want to lose you, either." He opened his eyes again and looked at Draco. "But I'm scared that we already have."

"What do you mean, love?"

The whole truth. All of it. Harry needed to say it then or he would never again have the strength. "All we do is argue. Do we even know each other?"

Draco frowned. "Of course we do. We've been together for a long time."

Harry shook his head. "But it's always been…" He paused then tried again. "We've never been able to keep our hands off each other, yeah? Not even as boys." He cleared his throat. "We haven't fucked in months."

"What does that—"

"Did we ever have anything else?" Harry asked, his voice small and weak.

Draco looked as though he'd been slapped. He jerked back a little, though his arms remained around Harry. "Gods. How can you even say that?" He turned and withdrew his arms to put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "If it were nothing but sex, we'd have burned ourselves out in those first couple of months. We'd have found other people whilst we were apart, surely, or discovered it when I came back."

"But—" Harry stopped himself. If there were nothing else, the thought of their marriage crumbling wouldn't have been so devastating. Another memory of the two of them flashed through his mind—the time he'd taken Draco to a Muggle cinema. Draco had been like a little boy, eager and examining everything in sight, asking a million questions. Harry's heart had felt swollen with love at the sheer joy Draco expressed. They'd both enjoyed the film, and afterwards, Draco had promised he would take Harry to see Wizard theatre. It was only one in a sea of thousands of moments together, but it was enough for right then. He relaxed into Draco's touch and raised his face to meet his husband's cool, grey eyes. "You're right. There's more to us than that."

That might have been the moment he actually began to believe it, and a small seed of hope glowed faintly in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parental post-natal depression is a real thing. While everyone's experiences are different, what I've written thus far (including in the previous chapter) was taken from actual things men have said regarding their experiences and the things that contributed to their feelings. I also know what PPD is like firsthand. At the risk of sounding all public-servicy and stuff, if you know someone dealing with this, please encourage them to get help. No one should have to do this alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

Harry had been back at work for six weeks. Between the adjustments to the potion and acclimating himself to a new partner, it had taken a while, but at last he was beginning to feel better than he had in a long time. He was finally on a dose that felt right—fewer breakthrough symptoms, but not so overpowering that he felt disconnected from himself. There were not enough words for his gratitude that Draco had not once complained about having to brew multiple batches to accomplish that.

He liked his new partner, Santiago. She was clever and witty, a bit of a cross between Hermione and Ginny. He was grateful not to have been paired with Russell, who was constantly in need of new partners because he was so thoroughly obnoxious no one wanted him. Harry suspected Dawlish knew it wouldn't have been a good idea to put them together, no matter how competent Harry typically was at handling difficult people.

The change in household responsibilities had been good as well. He wasn't home alone through long days of caring for Maia. As it turned out, Draco was much better suited for being out of the company of others for extended periods. He could also work from home now that she was a bit older, which made a difference as well. The warm weather meant taking her out more, and she was at last sleeping thorough the night nearly always. By the time August was half gone, the struggle for parenting survival had lessened greatly.

After a particularly long day, Harry arrived home from work to find the house unusually tidy. The scent of something cooking wafted up from the kitchen. Puzzled, Harry followed his nose down the stairs. He'd fully expected to come home and prepare dinner as usual whilst Draco tended to Maia's routine.

The table was set with the good dishes. There were unlit candles and a bouquet of fresh flowers. Harry smiled, but then it faltered. He wasn't sure if Draco had expectations. The strain between them had abated considerably, but their intimacy remained limited. Draco never pushed; he simply wrapped his arms around Harry and held him. Harry would've willingly stroked or sucked Draco to orgasm, but he still refused to allow Draco to do the same for him. Draco insisted on waiting until they were both ready. Harry wondered if he was trying to hurry the process a bit, and it made his shoulders tighten.

Hesitantly, he stepped into the kitchen. He promptly had to stifle a snigger. It was a mess: ingredients everywhere, the cookbook open on the counter, and Maia happily babbling away as she played in a pile of flour on the floor. She put a sticky hand into the powdery stuff and shoved it into her mouth. Her eyes widened and she yanked her fist out, goopy and coated with damp flour. At that, Harry let loose and collapsed against the door frame in fits of laughter.

Draco turned around and his eyebrows shot up when his eyes met Harry's. "You're home," he said.

"Well, yes, you see, because I live here." Harry chuckled. "I see you're making…erm…something?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Draco's cheeks turned faintly pink.

"Oh, I'm definitely surprised." Harry grinned, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up."

"All right." Harry picked Maia up. She gripped the front of his robes, turning the purple white. He bounced her, and she giggled, letting go of him to clap her hands. "I'll take Little One upstairs to wash her off."

Twenty minutes later, he returned with Maia to the kitchen to find it nearly sparkling. Draco was setting food on the table. Harry plopped Maia in her seat and handed her a spoon. She giggled and smacked the spoon soundly against the tray in front of her. Draco gave Harry a reproachful look, but Harry merely shrugged and grinned back at him.

Draco lit the candles, and they sat down to eat. They took turns feeding Maia some kind of mush Draco had made for her. Harry didn't question it, despite the fact that the color was suspect. He wondered just what was in it, though not enough to actually take a bite. Instead, he concentrated on trying the meal Draco had prepared for the adults.

"This is really good!" he exclaimed. He promptly clamped his mouth shut and shot Draco an apologetic look. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I know I'm not usually good at this sort of thing. I may have had just a little help."

"Did your mum send a house-elf again?"

"Believe it or not, no. I…" he trailed off and took a deep breath. "I went with Maia to visit Molly."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Alone?"

"Obviously."

"Was it too awkward?"

Draco shook his head. "Not at all. She was very patient with me. I learned exactly one meal, and that's what I made tonight."

Harry set his fork down. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing." Draco sighed. "I just thought that things have been a bit rough lately, and I know I haven't helped much. But I'm here now, and I wanted you to know that."

Harry reached across the table and took his hand. "I do know it." He ran his thumb over Draco's knuckles.

They finished supper, cleared away the dishes, and settled Maia down for the night. When they were through, they retired to the living-room and arranged themselves on the sofa. Draco turned to Harry.

"Tell me," he said.

"Tell you what?"

"What's bothering you. You've been tense all evening. I can see it now."

Harry slumped down a little. "You made such a lovely supper…" He eyed Draco sideways.

"Ah. You're worried I expect something." He pursed his lips. "I won't lie to you. I've missed it—the sex, I mean. But I will never, ever force you to do anything you don't want. I made you supper because I love you, not because I want something in return."

Harry relaxed and leaned against him. "I suppose I know that."

"Actually, I have an idea, if you're willing."

"Hm?"

"Will you let me, ah, give you a bath?" The last few words tumbled out in a rush, so fast Harry almost missed them.

He sat up. "A bath?" he laughed. "I'm fairly certain I haven't taken one in years."

Draco's eyes were pleading. "Then let me do this for you."

They rose and ascended the stairs. Inside the bathroom, Draco turned on the tap and adjusted it. He pulled several items out from a drawer, including a bottle of something that had a clean, crisp smell to it. When he poured it under the running water, it foamed and the the room became scented with it. Slowly, they both undressed. Draco shut off the tap and climbed in first, followed by Harry, who sat down with his back to Draco's chest.

He inhaled the fragrant steam, relaxing and laying his head on Draco's shoulder. "This is nice," he murmured.

Carefully, gently, Draco began to wash him. He scooped water onto Harry's head and lightly rubbed with more of the liquid soap. When he was through, he rinsed it out and began on Harry's body. Using a small sponge, he rubbed every place he could reach, slowly running the sponge over Harry's skin. It tingled, and Harry allowed the stress of the day to be carried away into the bath water. He hummed softly as Draco trailed the sponge down his chest and across his stomach. He hovered at the crease of Harry's thigh.

"Do you want me to—"

Harry froze. "I—"

"It's okay," Draco said quickly. He held out the sponge. "I don't have to."

"No," Harry whispered. "I want you to. But…"

"What is it?"

Harry's voice quavered a little as he said, "I haven't even been able bring myself off." His face heated up.

"We don't have to go that far. Just let me touch you." Draco rested his chin on Harry's shoulder. He slid the sponge across Harry's hip and rested it gently between his legs.

Harry drew in his breath at the sensation. "All right."

Very slowly, Draco made small circles, teasing and caressing lightly. At the same time, he kissed Harry's neck and shoulder, licking a few stray droplets of water from his skin. Harry sighed at the touches. It took a few minutes, but eventually, he began to harden and lengthen; he groaned quietly.

Draco's breath hitched, and he paused his motion. "Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yeah." Harry closed his eyes.

Draco dropped the sponge into the bath water and used his hand instead. He ran his fingers up and down Harry's cock, reaching around with his other hand to squeeze his nipple. Harry hissed through his teeth and his breathing sped up. Draco fondled him, sliding his thumb along the tip and rubbing gently. At Harry's quavering whimper, he wrapped his hand around Harry's erection and made long, lazy strokes.

When Harry moaned, he tightened his grip slightly and sped up his hand. He kept up a steady stream of hot, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Harry stretched one hand back to touch Draco's neck, using his other hand to grip the edge of the tub. He squirmed, thrusting upwards as the pressure built and causing bathwater to splash around them.

"Fuck," Harry muttered. "Don't stop. Gonna come." He gasped. "Oh, god!"

He bucked his hips, choking out a cry of pleasure as he spilled onto Draco's hand. He slumped back against Draco's chest, panting, his hands and legs shaking with both pleasure and relief. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked down at himself. He couldn't help it; he chuckled weakly. "You made me come." He promptly burst into tears.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry. "Shhh," he murmured into his hair, holding him firmly. "I've got you, love. What is it?"

When he had composed himself, Harry replied, "It's just been so damn long since I could _feel_. That was…amazing." He turned his head to look at Draco. "Please. Let me make you feel good too?"

They switched places. Harry smiled against Draco's neck as he gave his husband the same treatment he'd received, enjoying the tiny sounds Draco made—the soft sighs when Harry gently scrubbed his heated skin; the little gasps when Harry toyed with his nipples; the faint moan when Harry's hand finally wandered between his legs to tease his bollocks. Harry grasped Draco's erect penis and began to pump, eliciting shaky grunts with every stroke. It didn't take long for Draco to reach orgasm, arching up and stiffening as he came apart in Harry's hands.

They emerged from the bath and retreated to their room, wrapped only in their towels. Harry pulled on his sleep trousers and stretched out on the bed. He closed his eyes. In a moment, Draco joined him. He kneaded Harry's neck and back, soothing the last of the tension gathered there. Feeling much more at ease, Harry turned onto his side. Draco laid a hand on Harry's cheek, a question in his eyes. Harry leaned towards him and their lips met. Slowly and hesitantly, they kissed and explored each other.

After a few minutes, Harry pulled back a little. "I can't do any more tonight," he said. He placed a hand gently over Draco's heart. "I want to make love with you, I really do. But," he drew in a shaky breath, "I'm not ready."

"It's all right." Draco folded Harry into his arms, and Harry rested his head against his chest. "This is enough."

They lay that way until they both drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**IX**

One morning, Harry awoke to the faint sounds of the others moving around downstairs. He got up and pulled on a shirt before descending to the kitchen. When he arrived, he found Draco, Maia balanced on his hip, stirring something on the stove and singing to her. Harry stifled a snigger.

He obviously hadn't been careful enough. Draco turned around and gave him a reproachful look. "You're finally up," he remarked, returning his attention to his cooking. "Guess what today is?"

"Er…Saturday?" Harry guessed.

"Nice try. No, it's the day we're going to celebrate your birthday."

Harry laughed. "My birthday was two weeks ago."

Draco put out the burner and moved to the table to set Maia in her seat. He looked up at Harry as he strapped her in. "Yes, I realise that. But we've missed it, as well as our…" he leaned in closer, "…anniversary."

Harry knew what he meant. His birthday had been the first time they'd touched each other, the night before they repaired the Room of Requirement. They'd managed to find a way to honor the date every year. This had been the first time they'd ever missed it, and it gave Harry both a pang of guilt and a rush of warmth that Draco remembered anyway. Harry was surprised when it occurred to him that it had been ten years. He felt himself flush a little at the memory of their desperate groping, but he grinned at Draco.

"You mean our sexiversary."

"Shhh!" Draco admonished him, tilting his head towards Maia.

Rolling his eyes, Harry said, "She doesn't know what we're saying."

"Yes, well. It's never too early to start watching ourselves in front of her. Anyway, I have plans for us." He cleared his throat. "There's something I think we should do, though I hope you won't be too cross with me."

Harry wondered what it was Draco had in mind. He grabbed plates and began serving himself and Draco whilst Draco broke up bits of toast for Maia. They finished breakfast, and Harry was about to do the dishes when Draco waved him off, instructing him to change into 'something decent'.

When Harry returned to the living-room, Teddy was there, which surprised him. He hadn't spent much time with his godson in several months, and for that he felt guilty. But Teddy seemed glad to see him, and that made it easier.

"We're going to take Teddy for a visit to Hogwarts," Draco said. "He can talk to his parents' portraits and have a look round. After all, it's only another year until he gets his letter. Meanwhile, there's something I think you should do there." He gave Harry a pointed look.

Harry knew what it was. He'd needed to do it for a while, but he'd chosen not to because it was simply too hard. Now, though, he understood he had no choice if he wanted to remain healthy. He nodded, and Draco returned it.

Draco had apparently already firecalled ahead, as they were able to Floo right to the Head's office. Professor McGonagall—whom Harry had never been able to bring himself to call 'Minerva' in her entire tenure—had been replaced by Professor Flitwick. It saddened Harry just a bit; he'd never been as close with Professor Flitwick, for one thing, and for another, the next generation would never know his skills as a teacher. Still, he was a competent headmaster, and he had never denied Harry access to the Hall of Portraits to visit his parents or bring Teddy to see his.

"Gentlemen!" Professor Flitwick greeted them. "Ah, and here's the little one." He accepted a squirming Maia, who giggled and reached for his hat. After a wiggly moment, Professor Flitwick passed her back to Draco. "And Master Lupin," he greeted Teddy, extending a hand.

Teddy returned the handshake. He was normally an outgoing, gregarious boy, but in the presence of the Headmaster, he turned quiet every time. Even his hair calmed down, turning from its usual turquoise to an ordinary sandy brown. Harry was never sure if it was an act or not. After a few minutes spent talking with Professor Flitwick about Teddy's future at Hogwarts, the four of them left the Head's office and made their way down to the Hall of Portraits. When they arrived, Draco and Harry exchanged a glance. Draco handed Maia to Harry and led Teddy to the far end of the room.

Harry walked slowly over to the portrait of his parents, bouncing Maia a little to shush her. He stood in front of them and cleared his throat. "Mum. Dad."

The sound of his voice, echoing slightly despite the fact that he was keeping it low, brought Remus and Sirius into the portrait as well. Harry glanced over his shoulder. Teddy was occupied with Fred, and Draco was off talking to someone further down. He breathed a sigh of relief; this was hard enough without them listening in.

"Is that your daughter?" Remus asked.

"Yes. This is Maia." He glanced at Sirius. "We gave her your surname. Thought it was fitting." He tried to smile, but it faltered.

Lily noticed. "What is it, dear?"

He took a deep breath. "I wanted to be sure you saw her." He wasn't able to continue.

Fortunately, his parents understood. James said, "You're not coming back."

"No."

Sirius paused in the midst of making a face at Maia, and all four of them looked at Harry intently. His stomach twisted. He hadn't wanted to hurt any of them. It took a moment for him to notice that they were all waiting for him to speak again.

"Er…you're not angry, then?"

Lily smiled, and it looked a little wistful. "Of course not. We're portraits, dear. Disappointed, perhaps, but we've always known this would happen. You're not meant to live in the past, and we're not meant to replace the living."

Remus nodded. "It surprised all of us that you kept returning. We thought surely you would let go."

"I think I can, finally," Harry told them. He looked down at Maia. "For her sake."

Sirius tilted his head towards the other end of the Hall. "And theirs," he added.

"Yeah. And theirs," Harry agreed.

"We'll watch over them," James promised. "Teddy and Maia and those who come after them."

"I know you will." Harry's eyes grew misty. "Goodbye," he said softly. He turned away, unable to say anything further.

Wiping his eyes with his wrist, he returned to Draco's side. "It's done," he said.

Without a word, Draco pulled him in, and they stood there for a long moment until the portrait behind them cleared her throat. Draco released Harry, and they chuckled weakly. After giving Teddy time to talk to his parents—he never did have the same attachments to them Harry did to his own—they returned to Professor Flitwick's office to Floo home.

When they arrived back at the house, Draco said, "I think we could all use some fun. Shall we take Maia for her first visit to the zoo?"

"That sounds just about perfect," Harry agreed, and they gathered what they needed before heading back out into the world.

Their day wound up being as good as any they'd shared since expanding their family. Maia enjoyed the zoo, and they ended their day at a small Muggle cafe where the staff and a few of the other patrons fussed over Maia. When they returned home, Draco promised Harry that he would take him on a proper date—without Maia—the following weekend. Andromeda arrived just after supper to take Teddy home, and Harry and Draco spent the rest of the evening reading in companionable silence.

In bed, before settling down in each other's arms, Harry took the initiative to spend several long, wonderful minutes thanking Draco with kisses. His stomach fluttered a little, wondering if they might try more. He let his hand drift down to Draco's hip, resting there for a moment before sliding it around to cup his backside. Draco pulled out of their kiss.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"No, but…I think I'd like to try," Harry answered.

Before they could go any further, a wail split the air.

Draco rolled onto his back and laughed. "Or maybe another time."

Harry chuckled, feeling slightly relieved. "I'll see to her."

"She's teething, so it may be a long night."

Harry rose from the bed. He looked back at Draco, who was climbing under the covers, and smiled. "Then I suppose I'd better get moving so we can rest—or whatever—in between," he replied before slipping out and closing the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter (of this story; perhaps I'll revisit them again in the future).
> 
> Warnings: Smut. Crying. Happy-for-now ending.

**X**

They never did finish what they'd started. By the time Harry settled Maia down and went back to bed, Draco was sound asleep. Harry crawled beneath the covers himself and sank into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Much later that night, Harry woke needing to use the loo. He sat up and noticed the other side of the bed was empty. Concerned, he crept out from beneath the covers. When he exited the bedroom, he saw Maia's door partly open and worked out that Draco must have gone in to see to her. He quickly used the toilet and made to return to bed.

Something stopped him. He could hear faint humming, and he followed the sound to Maia's room. Quietly, he pushed the door further open. The sight that greeted him caused his breath to hitch and his mouth to go dry.

Draco stood in the middle of the room, his back to Harry. He was bare-chested and his pyjamas were so low on his hips the waistband of his pants showed. He held Maia in his arms, her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed. The moonlight illuminated Draco's tattoo, the long silver and green snake that wound up his left arm from wrist to shoulder—the one that hid the scar on his wrist. He swayed back and forth, singing to their daughter, his voice soft and low.

Harry wasn't sure exactly how long he stood there watching, but he was absolutely certain about how it made him feel. The sight of his half-naked husband, so utterly unguarded, was thoroughly arousing, but the sensation in his body was almost alien it had been so long since he'd felt that way spontaneously. For a time, he was frozen in place, staring and trying to work out what he was experiencing. By the time he realised what was happening, he was more than half-hard. As understanding dawned on him, he sucked in his breath.

The sound caused Draco to stop singing and look over at him. His eyes met Harry's, and it was clear he was taking in Harry's flushed cheeks and parted lips. He looked down, and Harry made no attempt to hide anything. Draco's eyes widened. When he returned his gaze to Harry's, a faint pink tinged his cheeks. Slowly, a smirk bloomed on his face, and Harry felt himself grow quite warm as his arousal increased. He'd never been able to resist that particular expression.

"Is she asleep?" Harry whispered.

"I believe so."

"Enough to lay her down?" He tried not to sound desperate, even though he was headed that direction.

"I think that could be arranged." Draco crossed to her cot and laid her in it. She remained asleep.

Harry turned around and walked out of the room, knowing Draco would follow him. The moment their door was closed, he had Draco pinned against it, kissing him and grinding against him. He could hear himself almost whining, but he didn't care. Draco ran his fingers down Harry's sides to the hem of his shirt, tugging on it and pulling it up and off when Harry shifted. He slid his hands down Harry's back and let them rest on his bum, eagerly answering every kiss and every thrust. It wasn't enough. Hastily Harry performed a neat bit of wandless magic, sending their remaining clothes to land in a heap in the corner. That made Draco laugh, and the vibrations thrummed through Harry, increasing his desire to an almost unbearable level.

They picked up where they'd left off, pressing against each other with increasing urgency. After only a few moments, Harry recognised that he was far too close, and he didn't want to stop. "Fuck yeah, nearly there…"

Draco understood and pulled his mouth away briefly to say breathlessly, "Are you sure—you want—to come this way?"

"Don't fucking care," Harry breathed. "Just need it." He moaned. " _Shit_." He gave in and let himself go, thrusting desperately through his climax, which felt as though it might never end. Draco dragged him closer, letting Harry collapse against his chest, panting as he came down from his orgasm.

"Fuck. I'm sorry I couldn't make it longer," Harry said ruefully, glancing down at Draco's still-hard cock. "It's been too long."

"I don't mind. That was incredible." Draco kissed him and pulled him towards the bed.

They lay down, and instead of using a cleaning charm, Draco _Accio'd_ a towel. Gently, he wiped them both then continued to lightly rub Harry all over with the towel while they kissed tenderly. The gentle touches felt fantastic on Harry's over-sensitive skin, causing a pleasant prickle. He relaxed, letting his hands roam along Draco's arms and chest.

He said softly, "Do you want me to touch you?"

"No," Draco replied. "Not yet." He leaned down for another long, sensual kiss then ran his lips along Harry's jaw and down his neck. "If you're willing, I want to keep going."

"Yes," Harry answered. "Oh, yes."

Draco discarded the towel and trailed his fingers over Harry's skin, following them with hot, open-mouthed kisses. He paused in his path to nip and lick in strategic places, seeming to make it his mission to pull as many needy, filthy sounds from Harry as possible. By the time he reached the patch of dark hair between his legs, Harry was already breathless with renewed desire.

Instead of taking Harry's penis into his mouth or using his hands to stroke him, Draco looked up at him and gave a wicked smirk. He pointedly teased, touching Harry everywhere except exactly where he wanted. He rubbed his nose in the crease of Harry's left thigh while simultaneously running his hand over the inside of his right leg; his hot breath ghosted on Harry's erection. Shifting his hand, he toyed with the black curls just above Harry's cock, using his index finger to reach out and lightly stroke just the base. He kept it up so long Harry began to whimper, desperate to be touched.

At last Draco raised his head. "Tell me what you want," he said. "Do you want me to put my mouth on your dick?" He hesitated, then continued. "Or do you want my fingers in your arse?" This time, he slid his hand so that his thumb rested just below Harry's sac.

Harry saw him swallow; Draco had never been keen on dirty talk. "Maybe you want me to fuck you." Harry thought those words coming out of him with just a hint of shyness was about the sexiest thing he'd ever heard.

Unable to resist any longer and wanting to spare Draco from having to go on, Harry whispered, "All of that. Yes." He propped himself up slightly to look at Draco then offered a smirk. He had, after all, learned from the master. "I want you to suck me. And then I want you inside me, fucking me until I've forgotten everything but how much I love you."

Draco didn't need further invitation. He reached over and pulled the lube out of the night-stand then poured some out onto his hand. When his fingers were sufficiently slick, he slid one gently inside Harry. It had been so long that the intrusion was a little uncomfortable. Harry tried to relax into the sensation. Sensing his discomfort, Draco adjusted his position and lowered his mouth onto Harry's erection. He licked and sucked while he gently probed with his fingers, inserting a second digit.

When he had Harry panting and moaning, he removed his mouth and hand, shifting again so they were aligned. He drew Harry's knees up to give himself better access. After coating himself with lube, he carefully slid inside. Harry gritted his teeth against the ache and sense of fullness, and Draco waited. Eventually, Harry relaxed, and Draco began to move. They thrust together, holding each other and kissing or gasping into each other's mouths. Harry opened his eyes; he wanted to see Draco.

He was surprised to find that Draco was looking down at him as well. The emotional impact of their lovemaking, finally actualised, hit him full-force. Something broke inside him, and it unleashed a flood of tears. Through a watery haze, he saw Draco's surprised expression, followed by his own eyes filling. They slowed their movement to a gentle undulation, crying together and washing away each other's grief with deep, longing kisses. As their shared sorrow abated, hunger began to build again and their mouths turned greedy and desperate. When their need became unbearable, they resumed their pace, rocking and pushing against each other, tumbling nearer and nearer to the edge.

"Are you close?" Harry whispered. There was something he wanted, but he felt strangely shy about asking.

"Yes," Draco answered breathlessly. "So close."

"I want—" He paused.

"Anything." It was almost a whine.

"Pull out. I need to see you come all over me."

Draco gasped, not shock but lust evident in his expression. "Yes," he repeated. He thrust hard a few more times then, as he began to shudder a little, he withdrew and angled himself just in time. He looked down at himself as his orgasm hit, and they both saw him release onto Harry's stomach and his still-hard cock. He maintained his position, breathing hard and shaking almost uncontrollably.

"Oh, god," he choked out when he was spent. "That was…oh, god."

"Fuck," Harry muttered. The erotic sight of Draco's copious ejaculation had been almost too much for him. He grasped himself and stroked firmly, spreading Draco's spilled seed over himself as he did so. Something about pleasuring himself with his husband's fluids while being watched by him felt both a little dirty and very intimate, and it intensified the building urgency. It only took a few tugs before he came, coating his hand and splattering against Draco's chest. A sigh escaped his lips as relief flooded his whole body in a way he hadn't experienced in months. He felt boneless and almost dizzy from both the physical end emotional release.

Draco flopped onto the bed beside Harry, and this time he used a spell to clean them both. It took a long time before they calmed down, curled against each other, holding on as though they needed to be anchored in place.

When Harry's breathing had slowed enough that he thought he could speak, he said, "Fucking hell. I needed that."

Draco's laugh was still a little breathless. "Me, too."

They were quiet again for a minute. Harry asked, "Are we going to be okay, then?" He reached over and brushed the back of his hand against Draco's.

Draco didn't answer for a moment. At last he said, "I can't answer that."

Panic welled up in Harry's chest. "Why not?"

"Because you mean, 'Are we okay forever'. No one can answer that. But we're good for now, and all we can do is take one day—one moment—at a time."

That hadn't been the answer Harry wanted but he wasn't sure how to ask for the reassurance he needed. He withdrew slightly. Draco shifted and turned onto his side, sliding his hand across Harry's chest. He let his fingers come to rest over Harry's heart.

"You need to know something," he said.

Harry swallowed, preparing himself. "Okay."

Draco adjusted so he could look at Harry. "Not once, in all the months since Maia came home with us, have I ever considered leaving. Never."

Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Harry let the tension flow out of him. He relaxed against Draco, and they wound their arms around each other.

"Do you think we can do it? This dad thing?"

Draco chuckled into Harry's shoulder. "I don't think we've got much choice at this point, love."

Harry laughed quietly. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am. Maia is going to be the most beautiful, talented, intelligent witch the world has ever seen, thanks to us."

"Don't forget brave," Harry added. "She'll be brave, too."

"Let's just hope that doesn't get her sorted into the wrong house."

Harry thwacked Draco playfully. "You're right. She'll probably be a Hufflepuff."

"The horror." Draco paused. "No, wait. She probably will. She's surrounded by _loooove_."

"My work here is done. I've turned you into a sap." Harry grinned at his husband.

"You have not! You take that back." Draco rolled over and pinned Harry.

"Nope." Harry reached up and kissed Draco, still smiling around his lips.

They kissed again, their mock-argument forgotten as they found their way back to arousal and need and, eventually, sated bliss. This time, they let themselves drift into contented sleep, still folded in each other's arms. The future would sort itself; for now, they had everything they required.


End file.
